Author's Corner:
Disclaimer was mentioned in previous chapter, and I don't like to repeat myself too much. Though I did forget to mention that I changed the name of the tactician… senses he will be boo-ed offstage
I'd like to thank all who reviewed, your comments all help me to build a better story.
Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 1
Tactician, Of Some Sorts
March 17th, 6 months after I left the army,
Another quiet day spent wandering the borders of Etruria. Now that I've deserted the only profession I ever knew, life is becoming a puzzle to me. In the past, orders dictated my life: protect your country and your country will feed you, clothe you, and provide you with a purpose in life. Now, I can only find odd bits and pieces of work. Occasionally helping a needy farmer for a small price, working at the odd inn, even becoming a one-time schoolteacher. Heh, if someone told me half a year ago that I'd be doing any of the above, I'd of called them a lunatic. Oh, the ironies of fate…
A young man in his mid-twenties sighed as he closed his journal. Clad in a ragged green cloak, he paused to survey his surroundings. Replacing his journal in a weather beaten bag by his side, he gazed wistfully at the painting that hung on the wall to his left. Everywhere around him, patrons of various classes were lounging about with their mugs of beer and ale, some choosing to gamble at cards while others preferred simply to chat about the day's coming and goings. Nursing his own cup of ale, he stiffened as he heard the distinctive clatter of weapons upon armor.
Sometimes, I love being a deserter wanted by the army, he thought while rising, Better get out of here in a hurry before some ambitious cadet hauls me before the tribunal.
"Hey, bartender! Three mugs of beer for me and my mates!"
"Sure, just sit yourselves at the counter."
The young man visibly relaxed as the bartender produced the wanted alcohol and set it before the soldiers. Maybe the fates decided to be kind to me after all, he thought to himself, with any luck, I could actually live out the rest of my days in peace, preferably somewhere other than Etruria. But fate is usually quite cruel in deluding its victims into a sense of false security before dashing their dreams in a heartbeat.
"You hear about the recent killings?" One of the soldiers muttered to another.
"The ones concerning the what, Silver Vanguard was it?"
"Aye, that's the corps. Someone or another is systematically eradicating a certain portion of their command."
The young man froze behind them and tried to inch closer to the quiet discussion.
"Whoever it is, they're not killing indiscriminately, I heard from captain that only the ones that participated in the Terrascar purge are being hunted down."
"Any clue who might've done it?"
One of the soldiers grunted, "Who knows? High command thinks that some Terrascar scum must have survived the slaughter and is out for vengeance."
"Black Fang," said a new voice from the corner.
"Wha-?" Everyone listening turned around, only to find an old merchant sipping his mug of ale.
"Black Fang I said," the old man continued drunkenly, "They be a group of assassins from Bern, but only kill those who abuse or oppress the people. The soldiers that burned them poor Terrascar fools are feeling the heat themselves."
"What could a band of fighters from Bern be doing all the way over here in Etruria?" Wondered the bartender.
"There are no boundaries for the Fang," muttered the old merchant, rolling his eyes, "They can be in Bern today, then appear in Lycia in a twinkling of an eye. Those who practice evil do well to fear the wrath of the Fang."
"In that case, I pity that one deserter," one of the soldiers said laughingly, "Rumor has it that he's the only survivor of all those who participated in the Terrascar purging. All his mates are dead and buried, the most recent only a couple of days ago."
Fighting down the bile from rising in his throat, the young man could feel fear sliding like a dagger down his back. He was the only one left, and still sitting his lazy rear in Etruria almost asking to be split in two by would-be assassins! Nice going, Drake, he said to himself, You spent 6 months stuck in Etruria and haven't heard head or tails of these deaths until you're next.
Reaching into his trouser pockets, Drake withdrew two of his last coins and left them on the counter. Throwing his bag over the shoulder, Drake quickly exited the establishment, hoping no one would remark on the suddenness of his departure.
"Wonder what was his hurry, he didn't even finish his drink," remarked one of the soldiers.
"Heh, more for us!"
"Perhaps, perhaps," said the old merchant as he stared at the retreating figure.
Panting for breath, Drake arrived near the outskirts of the Sacaen plains. All that separated him from Etruria was a small patch of forest directly behind him. Hopefully he had left any pursuers far behind him, assuming they had even located him in the first place.
"First time in my wanderings that I'll be heading into Sacae," he murmured out loud, "Saint Elimine, I must be crazy. That Black Fang tale was probably just a coincidence with the rumor the soldiers were spreading. I'd be a fool to believe their conversation over a drink."
"You'd be more of a fool if you didn't believe it, young man."
Shuddering slightly, Drake turned slowly around to see who had managed to ambush him without any warning. Since his life as a soldier, very few could surprise him even while he was spacing out, and this was near the edge of the plains for crying out loud.
"Now, now, don't leave your back too long towards an elder. Sign of disrespect, you know."
Sighing dismally, Drake turned completely around to face his ambusher.
It was the old merchant from the bar.
"Somehow I am not entirely surprised that you are the one sent to finish me," Drake said calmly.
"Really, and why is that?"
"This far away from Bern, even a merchant would hear but scant tales of the Black Fang. I'd wager that your comment about the Black Fang was merely a ploy to root out the only person in Etruria who would actually tremble at your story. All you have to do is enter all social gatherings and throw out a line to see which fish would pale at the sight of a hook. And that would be me."
"That's a wager you'd win, young one, but regrettably, you are about to die," replied the patient hunter, who knew his prey was already ensnared in the net.
"I doubt that, what prevents me from fleeing from your attack?"
"Easy. THIS!"
Before the second word had left his lips, the apparently aged merchant flung a cleverly concealed dagger towards Drake's face. Expecting some sort of surprise attack, Drake twisted sideways to avoid the flying projectile. Unfortunately, the diversion had already accomplished its purpose, as a second dagger flung by the assassin embedded itself within his left thigh. So much for escaping, Drake thought, But I'll settle for getting out of this alive.
"A futile attempt as always. Why not just submit and die peacefully? The gods know that the lives you have already taken are waiting above for you demise."
"Most likely," Drake grunted with exertion, "However, I think my time hasn't come yet."
"I sincerely doubt that," replied the assassin as he raised a third and final dagger for the finishing blow, "Is there any reason why you shouldn't die here?"
"Of course," came the answer, "Your knife helps."
Seizing the knife in his thigh, Drake wrenched out the weapon and stabbed the surprised assassin deep in the stomach. Caught unawares, the would-be killer could only watch as his lifeblood spilled onto the grass below. Snarling, he plunged the dagger downwards, hoping to score the kill and finish his mission. Regrettably, his strength waned and he only managed to gore the shoulder of his target. Screaming with rage, the assassin crumbled, never to rise again.
With shaking hands, Drake managed to draw out the blade in his shoulder. Heaving himself to his feet, he limped away from the scene of combat; trying desperately to stay conscious after the amount of blood he lost before a second wave of assassins found him. Stumbling slightly over a hill, he lost his balance and collapsed near the base of the rise. His last vision was a pair of brown boots before darkness enveloped him.
The next time Drake opened his eyes, what greeted him was some sort of roof fashioned from furs. Frowning slightly, he tried to debate whether he was currently residing in heaven or hell. Since heaven tends to have clouds overhead and hell likes to be decorated with a flaming interior, Drake concluded that he must be, strangely, alive and in someone's house. Further thoughts were forestalled as a young woman with green hair opened the tent flap and entered.
"Are you awake now?"
Instead of answering the question, Drake merely tried to raise himself from the bed, which rather indirectly answered the inquiry.
"I found you unconscious on the plains."
Trying to fight down the rising headache, Drake had little time to comprehend whatever the heck she was saying, but managed a quick, "Whoareyou?"
"I'm Lyn, of the Lorca tribe. You're…"
Whatever she said after that wasn't important, as the occupant of the bed froze at the mention of her tribe. Lorca, but I could have sworn we…
"There were survivors?" he all but blurted out, then hastily covered his mouth at his blunder.
Lyn narrowed her eyes suspiciously, as there weren't very many foreigners that knew of the Lorca's demise. "Who are you? Do you remember your name?" In truth, she wanted to shake him until he told her what he knew, but that will have to wait.
Sweating profusely, Drake stammered, "I, uh, name, yes… I'm Drake, Drake from Etruria."
"So your name is Drake? And might I ask you what you're doing in Sacae? Perhaps you can tell me what you know about the Lorca as well?" She said as she leaned closer, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
Greaaaaat, Drake cringed, Why did I have to say that? Think! Use that infernal head of yours and talk your way out of this before she pulls out a sword and manually extracts the information!
Luckily for him, a horn sounded outside that distracted Lyn from her questioning. Being foreign to Sacae's customs, Drake did not sense anything amiss, but one look at Lyn's face told him that the horn meant trouble.
"I'll go see what's happening. Drake, wait here; we're not done with this conversation."
As Lyn exited via the tent flap, Drake flopped himself back onto the bed trying to come up with some lame lie to cover his costly blunder. Yet no matter how hard he tried, his mind drifted towards the horn that called Lyn away from her interrogation. His wondering would soon be answered, as Lyn appeared once again through the tent flap.
"As I suspected, bandits wishing to plunder the local villages. I'll be able to take care of them myself, assuming they don't have any other scum lurking around," Lyn said through gritted teeth. What befell my family shall not touch another innocent soul while I can do anything about it, she silently vowed.
"Ah, perhaps I can be of some assistance then."
"You can help me, Drake? Are you proficient with a weapon?"
Drake winced at that. Better not let her know I'm an ex-soldier who had a hand in her tribe's downfall now, should I? At least he had some other skills to offer besides his sword arm.
"I am a tactician, of some sorts. I plot battles rather than actually waging them."
Lyn bit her lip as she considered his proposition. I don't exactly know enough about him, but there is a chance that there are more brigands out there than I've seen. After all, I could use someone with tactical advice if the situation gets out of hand.
"Very well, we go together."
Though she had accepted his proposal of teaming up, Lyn's eyes clearly showed that she didn't trust him completely. Nevertheless, the two of them left the tent to survey the situation before them.
"It appears that there are only two of them, I'll be more than a match for them," Lyn said after checking there were no other bandits located in their immediate vicinity.
"Still, discretion is the better part of valor, perhaps we should divert their attention first. A surprised enemy is much easier to…"
"I'll be alright, Drake, don't worry too much about me. I'm sure my skills will be enough to overcome any untrained ax men," Lyn interrupted, hurrying off to combat the closer bandit before Drake could finish his comment. All Drake could do was sigh and shake his head, though he'd find a way to help Lyn in his own way.
Lyn dispatched the first bandit without much difficulty, as the corpse behind her could attest to. Pausing only to pour a vulnerary over the cut she had suffered on her right arm, Lyn pushed on to challenge the bandit that was guarding the hut.
"You are quite brave and foolish to challenge me, little girl. I am Batta the Beast!" The ax man roared at the sight of Lyn approaching.
"You're going to be Batta the Dead if you keep talking like that," replied Lyn completely unfazed by the brigand's challenge.
Roaring with rage, the man sprang forward like a wounded tiger eager to swat aside its prey. Drawing her blade with a practiced fluidity, Lyn scored two quick slashes upon the bandit's arm before backing away. Leering at the young woman before him, Batta sprung again and aimed a furious downward slash at the spot Lyn was standing.
Lyn sidestepped and scoffed at the bandit's pathetic attempt to counter, "If that's the best you can do you better… Uh…"
Although Batta had missed his initial slice, the force he struck the ground with allowed him to carry his ax upward for a horizontal bash into Lyn's waist. Although it was only with the flat of ax, Lyn collapsed with the wind knocked out of her, leaving her vulnerable for the bandit to finish her off.
"Not so confident now, are we girl?" The bandit mocked as he raised his ax for the final blow.
Lyn panted as she tried to steel herself for another attack. Thanks to Batta's attack, her hands refused to close around the sword hilt and her legs felt like hot butter. I'm going to need a little bit of time to get my wind back, she winced, Time which I don't have. Mother, Father, it looks like I'll be joining you quite soon. Perhaps I should've listened to what Drake had to say before charging off.
Batta hefted his ax lightly before striking, "Now prepare to die… The hell?"
Smoke suddenly appeared from his hut behind him, enveloping him in their choking cloud. Gasping and wheezing, the angry bandit swatted at the offending disturbance. I could've sworn I had put out all the embers from the fire, he wondered, so where the hell did this smoke come from?
Lyn was just as surprised as her opponent, trying to figure out where this temporary reprieve came from. That is, her surprise lasted until Drake's voice behind her instructed her softly in an amused tone.
"A surprised enemy is much easier to defeat, Lyn, I'd advise attacking now."
Struggling, Lyn surged to her feet and readied her sword in a fighter's stance. Though her aim still wavered a bit, she realized there was little chance to miss. Batta was waving his arms in a furious attempt to fan away the smoke clouding his vision, and in that sense, painting a bright target sign where he was standing. Taking a deep breath, Lyn charged and stabbed her blade forward into the center of where Batta was struggling.
A surprised gasp, and two bodies pitched forward. Batta fell with a look of complete surprise frozen on his face, while Lyn fell to one knee shaking with exhaustion. The battle was over.
The next dawn found Drake dressed and prepared to leave. The long I stay in one place, he mused, the sooner the Fang will catch up with me. If he left quickly, perhaps they would lose the trail and, hopefully but unlikely, give up the chase. Drake was interrupted as Lyn opened the tent flap and came outside.
"Good morning, Lyn," Drake greeted, though he remained with his back to her.
"Good morning, Drake," she began, then faltered, "I've been meaning to ask you something, but never got around to doing so."
"Hm? Speak, and let's see if I hold the answer to your question."
"You have some experience in war, so could I travel with you?"
At that Drake turned around. Surely he didn't hear what he thought he had just heard? That would be madness, he thought, I pretty much have a group of assassins after my head, and traveling with an innocent bystander would get her embroiled in that hunt.
"I've only heard from a drunk Sacaen that the Lorca were attacked half a year ago," he lied, "Surely there is someone you can return to instead of coming with me?"
Lyn looked up, though her eyes seemed distant, "When the bandits attacked, my father, the chieftain, was slain. So many of our tribe were slaughtered that we were scattered to the four winds, probably never to unite again, at least under a young girl like myself. I'm alone with no kin of my own now."
Drake nodded sympathetically, though inwardly he cringed. War is folly, he thought despairingly, one act of warfare can shatter so many lives. I was one of those who had brought her misfortune, thus I should at least try to replace the happiness she lost at my hands.
Lyn tried to dry the tears falling from her eyes, "I'm sorry, I've just been alone for so long and…" I had no one to talk to, "I need to become stronger, strong enough so that I can protect myself and those with me. Strong enough even to avenge my father."
Drake gently tilted her head back and dried her tears before looking into her eyes. Lyn stared back with a pair of determined orbs that seemed to pierce Drake with their brilliance. They were eyes that promised that the soul encased inside would not break under any trial. Satisfied, Drake made his decision.
"Then you have yourself a traveling partner, milady."
That is all for now, please review if you have the time to spare. Comments, suggestions, heck, even flames are fine.